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Footsteps sounded on the porch, and she hurried to the door. She flung it open almost as soon as the knock sounded and stumbled back a step, the familiar room spinning around her.
The man standing on the porch wore boots, jeans and a black leather jacket zipped up against the cold, but he wasn’t an Englischer. He was Benjamin Miller.
* * *
Of all the ways Ben had thought about his homecoming, the one he hadn’t pictured was coming face to face with Anna Zook. She’d changed—that was his first automatic thought. He’d left behind a tender girl whose face had glowed with the impact of first love. Now he faced a woman who wore her maturity like a cloak around her.
“Anna.” He said her name heavily, embarrassment and sorrow mixing in his tone. He didn’t doubt he’d hurt her when he’d left. She had plenty of reasons not to welcome his return. “It’s been a long time.”
The words seemed to jolt her out of a daze. “Three years,” she said tartly. “None of us have forgotten.”
She seemed already armed against his return. Maybe that would make things easier. Whatever else happened here in Lost Creek, he couldn’t hurt Anna again.
“I guess not.” He gestured toward the door. “Mind if I come in?”
For an instant he thought she would slam it in his face. Then she nodded and stepped back, standing silent as he entered.
He looked around with appreciation. “The birthing center wasn’t finished yet when I left. It looks good.”
“Your father and brothers did fine work on building it just as your mamm wanted.”
Was that a reminder that he hadn’t been here to help? Probably so. He turned slowly to face her, letting his gaze drift over her. The honey-brown hair seemed to have lost its glints of gold, but maybe that was because it was December, not August. He’d always picture her under the apple tree on a summer night, her heart-shaped face tilted toward his, her green eyes lit with love.
“You’ve changed.” It was inadequate, but it was the only thing he could think to say.
“People do in three years.” She glanced at his leather jacket and jeans. “You have.”
She couldn’t know how much. If Anna’s face showed her added maturity and assurance, his must be a map of disappointment and betrayal.
Time to leave behind this fruitless conversation and move on to the family. “Is Mamm at the house?”
Anna nodded, warily it seemed. “She went over a few minutes ago. We’ve finished with the patients for today, unless there’s an emergency.”
“I guess I’d best go and face the music, ain’t so?” The familiar Pennsylvania Dutch phrase fell easily from his lips after training himself not to use it. He half turned toward the door and found that his feet didn’t want to move. Coward, he told himself.
Still, his gaze sought Anna’s face again. “My family—is everyone well?”
“So far as I know.” She bit her lower lip, as if she’d like to say something else but restrained herself.
“If you’re ready to go, I’ll walk over with you.”
She hesitated, and Ben recognized her reluctance. He opened the door, waiting, and Anna walked out with him.
The farm he’d grown up on spread out before him, the grass turning brown with winter’s cold, the fruit trees bare. Resting, Daad would have said. Everything rested in winter, building up strength for the spring.
Funny. He’d never expected to cherish the most common of sights—the spring wagon parked beside the red barn, the windmill spinning in the strong breeze, the chickens pecking at the earth inside their pen, hunting for a forgotten bit of grain.
He’d left because he’d thought he didn’t belong here. He’d learned the hard way he didn’t belong in the outside world, either.
Could he come home again? They’d reached the back door that led into the kitchen. He was about to find out.
Anna hesitated on the step. “Maybe I should wait. Give you time with the family...”
“Mamm always said you were part of the family. There’s no reason I can see to back off now.” He may as well face all the people he’d disappointed at the same time. He seized the doorknob, turned it and stepped inside.
Daad and Joshua were sitting at the table. Mamm stood at the stove. All three of them turned to stare, seeming immobilized with shock. He waited, all the words he’d rehearsed deserting him.
Daad recovered first. He set down his coffee mug with a thud, his keen blue eyes fastened on Ben’s face. Daad looked much the same—lean and wiry, his skin weathered from working outside. His beard was a little longer, a little grayer, that was all.
“So,” he said. “You’ve come back.”
It wasn’t exactly the welcome given to the prodigal son, but he guessed it would have to do. “Ya,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”
Daad’s face was impassive. “It’s your home.”
As if he’d been waiting for Daad’s reaction, Joshua scrambled to his feet, grinning. “It’s gut to see you, Ben.”
“Can this be my little bruder?” Ben grabbed his shoulder. “You’re near as big as I am.”
“What do you mean, near as big? I am as tall, ain’t so?” Joshua, the youngest, had always been eager to catch up with his brothers.
“Maybe so.” He was already looking beyond Josh to where his mamm stood, her hands twisting her apron.
The pain in her eyes shook him, and his heart wrenched. His throat grew tight. “Forgive me, Mammi,” he murmured.
Tears filled her eyes, but to his relief they were tears of joy, not sorrow. She held her arms wide. “My Benjamin. You’ve komm home to us.”
Ben stepped into her embrace, his heart overflowing with mingled grief and happiness. Grief for the pain he’d caused her—happiness at feeling her forgiveness wash over him in a healing flow.
If he could truly mend anywhere, it would be here. Mamm, at least, welcomed him with all her heart, despite the pain he’d caused.
Still holding her, he looked over her shoulder at the others. Josh, too young and too openhearted to hold a grudge, was still grinning. Daad—well, Daad was going to be more difficult. He was reserving his opinion, Ben thought. Not quite ready to go back to normal with the son who’d disappointed him so badly.
Anna stood with her back to the door. Anna had plenty of reason not to trust him. And right now she looked as if she thought welcoming him home was the worst idea in the world.
Chapter Two (#u447219fc-ac3c-51ce-abe0-7c5b1187d067)
It seemed to Anna that Elizabeth hadn’t stopped smiling in the past twenty-four hours. She’d always known how much Elizabeth missed Benjamin and longed for his return, but she hadn’t even realized how much that was reflected in her face. Elizabeth looked as if she’d shed ten years in a single day.
Anna led the buggy horse to the gate and then turned him into the field. Buck seemed to shrug all over, as if delighted to be rid of the harness. He sniffed the icy grass and then broke into a gallop, racing to where the other horses stood at the far end of the field.
Smiling at his antics, Anna headed for the house. She’d volunteered to take the home visits today, so that Elizabeth could be free to enjoy Benjamin’s return.
But Anna couldn’t deny that she’d had another motive, too. She’d been just as eager to get herself well away from Benjamin’s disturbing presence.
Her steps slowed. She’d thought having time alone during the drive would give her a chance to come to terms with Benjamin’s return. Unfortunately her thoughts just kept spinning around and around like the windmill blades in a strong wind.
Enough, she told herself. Was she reluctant to accept his return because she worried that he’d hurt his family again? Or was her concern more selfish?
When Anna put it to herself that way, she couldn’t help but see the answer. Christians were called to forgiveness. They could only be forgiven as they forgave. If the rest of Benjamin’s family could forgive him and welcome him back, then she must, too.
Holding on to the resolution firmly, she marched into the house. As always at this time of day, Elizabeth was in the kitchen. She was bent over the propane oven, her face flushed as she pulled out two apple pies, their crusts golden brown and the apple juices bubbling up through the vents.
“That wouldn’t be Benjamin’s favorite pie, would it?” Anna forced warmth into her voice as she stowed her medical bag on its shelf by the door.
“Ach, you caught me.” Elizabeth transferred the pies to the wire cooling rack and turned, smiling.
Anna’s heart gave a little thump. Elizabeth was so happy. How could Anna be skeptical of anything that made her feel that way?
“He’ll appreciate those, I know.” Surely nothing he’d found in the outside world could match his own mamm’s cooking. “Can I do anything?”
Elizabeth surveyed the pots on the stove top. “I don’t think so.” She glanced toward the clock. “Ben went out to cut some greens for me. I felt like getting ready for Christmas today. Maybe you’d go out and help him bring them to the porch. It’ll soon be time for supper.”
Well, she’d offered to help. Elizabeth wasn’t to know that helping Ben...seeing Ben...was the last thing she wanted at the moment. All Anna could do was smile.
“Right away. Do you know where he went?” The woods began across the field behind the barn and stretched up to the ridge that sheltered the valley.
“That stand of hemlocks, I think. He knows I like the little cones on the greens to put on the windowsills.”
Nodding, Anna buttoned her coat again and went back out into the cold. The brittle grass crackled under her shoes as she walked, and she scanned the skies for signs of snow. But the only clouds were light, wispy ones moving lazily across the blue.
It might be silly for a grown woman to be longing for that first snow of the winter, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She loved running outside to feel the flakes melting on her face. She and her sisters used to vie to see who’d be first to catch a snowflake on her tongue.
A glimpse of black jacket among the hemlocks told her where Benjamin was, and she veered in his direction. Maybe it would be natural to wave or call out, but nothing felt natural when it came to Ben. Just the slightest glance from his deep blue eyes seemed to turn her back into the girl who’d thought she’d soon be a bride.
He had his back turned to her. The wheelbarrow next to him was full of green branches, and the clippers he’d been using lay atop them. Maybe he’d spotted a deer or a pheasant and was watching it, standing so still.
The clothes he wore were Amish, the black jacket a bit snug over his broad shoulders. Had he grown since he’d been gone? He certainly seemed taller and broader to her. The black pants and heavy shoes made her wonder what had become of the jeans and leather jacket. He wouldn’t need them if he meant to be home for good.
Well, of course he’d come home to stay. He wouldn’t be so unkind as to let his family believe that if it weren’t so, would he?
His voice startled her. For a moment she thought he’d spoken to her, and then she realized he stood immobile because he was talking on a cell phone. Not so surprising, but still...
Don’t judge. She had a cell phone herself, as well as the phone in the center. It was difficult to be a midwife to a widespread practice without one. She didn’t use the phone casually, marking off for herself the line between what was accepted and what was bending the rules.
Ben might have a difficult time adjusting to living under the Ordnung again after his time out in the world. They’d all have to make allowances for him.
“That’s not true.” Ben’s voice, raised in what might have been anger, came clearly to her ears. “Whatever happened between us is over.”
Anna froze. She shouldn’t be overhearing this. But she’d already heard. Should she make her presence known or attempt to creep silently backward?
“All right.” Ben snapped the words. “I’ll see you again, but not until I’m ready.”
Anna took a step back, and a branch snapped beneath her foot, loud in the still air. Ben spun. His glare nailed her to the spot. She’d seen his eyes merry and laughing and teasing. And tender, filled with longing. But she’d never seen them freeze over with anger.
He clicked the phone off. “Eavesdropping, Anna?” The words were edged with ice.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Your mother sent me out to help you. I didn’t realize what you were doing until...”
Her defense withered under his cold stare. When had he gotten those lines around his eyes, that tenseness in his jaw? That was new. Was that what the outside world had done to him?
“It didn’t occur to you to let me know you were here, ja?” He bent to pick up the wheelbarrow handles. “You’ve done your duty. I’m coming. Why don’t you run back and tell my daad that I was out here talking on my cell phone?”
A wave of anger came to her rescue. “I’m not a child, and I don’t tattle on people.”
“No.” His gaze drifted over her. “I can see you’re not a child, Anna. You’re all grown up now.”
Her anger edged up a notch at the way he’d looked at her. “Your clothes don’t make you Amish, Benjamin. If you’re not ready to leave the Englisch world, maybe you shouldn’t have komm.”
If anything, his face got tighter, until he didn’t look remotely like the boy she’d loved. “Mamm may say you’re like a daughter to her, but you’re not family. It’s not your business, so leave it alone.”
Shoving the wheelbarrow, he strode off toward the house.
Anna stood where she was, fists clenched. So much for her resolutions. Maybe she could forgive Benjamin for what he’d done in the past. But what about what he planned to do in the future? How could she ever trust him again?
* * *
Ben walked into the kitchen after supper, intent on a last cup of coffee. The quick cadences of Pennsylvania Dutch came from the living room, where everyone was settled for the evening, Daad reading aloud something from the latest issue of the Amish newspaper, Mamm sewing and Josh whittling a tiny boat destined for their brother Daniel’s oldest for Christmas. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound of his native tongue, and it soothed his soul.
But he was leaving out someone. Anna was there as well, her lap filled with the baby shawl she was crocheting for Daniel and Barbie’s youngest. When he’d said she wasn’t part of the family, he’d wanted only to hurt her. Not only had that been unkind, it hadn’t been true. Maybe she was more a member of the family than he was.
Standing at the counter, he stirred sugar into the coffee, his spoon clinking against the thick white mug. Mamm had already lined the kitchen windowsill with the greens he’d brought in. Amish might not have the Christmas trees that were everywhere in the outside world, but that didn’t mean they didn’t celebrate the season of Christ’s birth in their own way.
A light step sounded behind him, and Ben knew without turning that it was Anna. Funny, how his view of her had changed. He’d thought her a quiet little mouse of a girl when she’d first come to stay with them. But he’d learned she had considerable spirit behind that quiet exterior. Today she’d turned it against him in reminding him that clothes didn’t make him Amish, and he didn’t like it.
“Ben.” Her voice was soft. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
He turned. If she intended to reiterate her opinion of him...
Anna’s heart-shaped face was serious, and a couple of lines had formed between her eyebrows. “I want to apologize.” She seemed to have trouble getting the words out. “I had no right to speak to you the way I did. I’m sorry.”
She’d disarmed him, taking away all the things he’d stored up to say.
“It’s okay. I know you’re just concerned about Mamm.”
Some emotion he couldn’t identify crossed her face, darkening her eyes. “She’s not my mother, but I do care about her.”
“I know.” His voice roughened despite his effort at control. “Believe me, I don’t want to hurt her.”
He already had, hadn’t he? Ben backed away from that thought.
“Gut.” Anna hesitated. “I hope you’re home to stay. It would mean so much to your family.”
Would it mean anything to you, Anna? He shoved that thought away, not sure where it had come from.
“A lot has changed since I’ve been gone. I can’t believe how Josh has grown. And think of Daniel and Barbie, having two kinder already. And I suppose Joseph will be next.”
That brought a smile to her face, warming her eyes and showing him the beauty other people didn’t seem to see. “I’ve never seen your mamm so nervous as when Barbie’s little ones were born. She said I had to catch them because she couldn’t, but believe me, she watched every move.”
